Comfort Zone
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: Stepping outside of one's comfort zone may prove to be a difficult task, but doing so tends to bring good things in the end.


Alec flipped the page in Dickens's novel lazily, his eyes gliding over the words that he had come to learn by heart. It wasn't as if he didn't have anything better to do; he simply liked to read. It was a particularly good book, and it taught a particularly good lesson. Alexander liked learning lessons through text- it was those types of lessons that couldn't really hurt a person. Anyway, Dickens was good.

"Alexander!"

Alec glanced up from his reading, fingers pausing along the old, dog-eared edges of the pages. It was so familiar to him, this books, those words... As familiar as the back of his hand and as comforting as home to him. "Yeah, Magnus?"

"C'mere!"

Sighing quietly, Alexander folded the worn corner of the page over, tossing the book onto the table. It skidded across the smooth surface and landed with a muffled thump and a crinkle of pages onto the floor. Looking back at it briefly, Alec sighed. "Must you ruin my comfort zone?"

Comfort zones were very important to Alexander Lightwood.

He poked his head into the kitchen, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach. Magnus was making something, what had he called it...? Well, Alec didn't remember the name right at the moment, and all he knew now was that he had neglected to have any dinner and the dessert smelled nice.

"What are you making again?" he questioned, tilting his head a bit.

Magnus rewarded him with a glare. "How can you forget?"

Alec only grinned sheepishly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I tend to forget the names of foods, and only remember the tastes."

"And still you will devour the ink black words found on that book in the living room with ease."

"Mhm. So, what is it?"

Magnus sighed theactrically, pacing across the refrigerator. As I've told you, it's crèmé brûlée."

"Oh right! That stuff that you set on fire. By the way," Alec added, looking to the countertops, "have I mentioned that you are a terribly messy cook?"

Magnus's head popped over the top of the fridge door, a grin on his face. That grin immediately set Alexander on edge, but before he could ask, the warlock had spoken. "It's your turn to be messy! You try cooking and seeing how clean you can stay!" He wiped his hands onto his shirt, bringing up a cloud of flour.

Alec laughed, resting his head against the wall. "If you value your kitchen, or actually, your house, I would seriously think before telling me to cook." He paused. "I think I take after Isabelle."

Magnus imperceptibly shuddered, running his fingers through his hair. "Uh, no. I'm not going to let you burn down the house and I will make sure you can cook better than Isabelle. That _is_ a promise."

"No thanks, Magnus. I'm sorely tempted, but no thanks."

Going back to the thoughts on comfort zones, cooking was so far out of Alexander's comfort zone that he may as well have called himself straight. It was just strange and foreboding, and obviously just a heap of trouble waiting to happen. Look what happened when his Sister cooked! Jace wouldn't have eaten for a week even if that had been the only source of food available.

"It's not a suggestion, Alexander." Alec was surprised to find Magnus behind him, his arms snaking their way around his neck. The next words were whispered against his own ear, bringing a small shiver to his frame. "It's a demand."

"Ugh, just go cook it yourself..." he muttered, ignoring the warlock's roving fingers to the best of his ability.

"But it's much better when you help," Magnus replied, and Alec jumped at cold lips against his throat.

"Cut it out, Magnus," he grumbled halfheartedly, now very tempted to wrap his own arms around the warlock behind him. Much to his surprise, that certain messy warlock moved away.

"Right right! Onto business! Wash your hands, Alec; you reek of old books."

"But that's a good smell...!" he protested. "And why am I washing my hands? I said I'm not cooking anything..."

"Come on, I'll help you!"

There was something in the way that Magnus said that, grinning bouyantly at him, that made Alec ponder on the truth of that statement. Nonetheless, seeing no way out of it (Magnus was _stubborn_ when he wanted to be) and muttering under his breath, he rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to get his hands acquainted with the soap and water.

"Alright... what am I making?" he questioned after drying his hands off absently. He was thinking maybe cake of some sort, which couldn't be all that bad if he just followed the-

"Alsatian Kugelhopf."

"_What?_"

"Alsatian Kugelohopf. It's French. And German. Sort of. It came from this little place on the French-German border and, uh, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Are you insane?"

"I said I'd help, Alexander! And it's really easy to make. It's just like a mini bundt cake."

"Ugh..." Desperately trying to maintain some sense of order and clutch onto the fading straws of a comfort zone, he couldn't bring himself to say the words in his mind. It was just cake. Just cake. And Magnus would get all pouty if he didn't do this... "Fine..."

"Good! I'll get the stuff out!"

All right. How hard could it be to make a cake. It couldn't be hard.

"Turn the stove on."

"To what?"

"Oh, medium heat will do."

Alec did.

"Now, you need to get a cup of milk, two-thirds cup of sugar, and two sticks of butter."

Alec did this, too.

"Now put it all in the- Get over _here_! Put it all in the pot and wait until it's lukewarm."

"How am I supposed to know when it is?"

"You touch it. With your fingers? Just don't touch the bottom of the pan."

"Oh, Magnus, this is such a disaster waiting to happen..."

"Uh uh. You're doing fine, my little Shadowhunter. Is it warm yet?"

"Uh, yeah? Sort of. Is it good enough?" Alec glanced up to Magnus for confirmation, and upon being granted it, sighed quietly. One thing down... but the tricky part had yet to begin.

"Alright, take that off the burner... Eight teaspoons dried yeast, measure that out."

Muttering something about being bossy, which earned a quick smile from Magnus, he measured it out. "Yeah?"

"Now put it in the pot, and we have two minutes to kill."

"Oh, two minutes," Alec muttered sarcastically, leaning back against the counter.

"Hey, two minutes is enough time."

"For what?"

Alec glanced up in time to catch Magnus's eye before he was suddenly subject to one of the warlock's rather random, quick kisses. Not that Alec didn't mind those random, quick attacks, but it would have been nice to have a little warning... Magnus tasted all vanilla with maybe just the slightest hint of coffee, the products of the cooking adventure, no doubt. Alec wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer, to the point where the countertop was digging uncomfortably into his back. He couldn't acknowledge that, though.

With a shiver, he slipped his hands under Magnus's shirt, which caused the latter to jump. "Sorry," he murmured, although he could hardly see how it was his fault that his fingers were cold. Regardless...

A quiet exhale of breath escaped his lips as Magnus's hands caressed lower, dipping and teasing him because he knew that Alec's mind was on anything but the cooking right now.

The cooking... Cooking... Who cared?

Apparently Magnus.

Alec went to return his lips to the warlock's, only to find he'd pulled away. He opened his mouth to complain, when Magnus spoke.

"Look Alec, I think it's been a sufficient two minutes. It's starting to get bubbles and that means the yeast is reacting. See?"

"You can't be serious..." he moaned, shifting his position awkwardly. "Can't be."

"I am, look! It's bubbling!"

Alec shot him a dirty look.

"Alright then!" Magnus looked back to the book laid out on the countertop, seeming perfectly at ease. "Add a pinch of salt and then... Ah! We need the mixer." He went to getting those utensils out while Alec refused to move, letting his mind wander to things like cold showers and burning houses down. Revenge was best a dish served cold.

"Here, I put it in the mixing bowl for you. Add four cups of flour."

"I don't want to!" Alec retorted somewhat quickly, blinking at his own retort afterwards. It was true, though; he didn't. He didn't care about this stupid... German-French bundt cake. All he really cared about right now was Magnus.

"Alexander. We have to let this rise for one hour, _sixty _minutes, when the dough is finished. You do realize that, right?"

"You really are teasing me," Alec muttered in return, going to join him by the mixer. "What do I do after this...?" he inquired, dumping in the cups of flour he was supposed to.

"Two eggs. And it's gotta mix on medium speed for five minutes."

"Five minutes?" He glanced sideways at Magnus hopefully.

"Two eggs, Alexander."

Grumbling under his breath, he managed to get two eggs into the mixing bowl, very nearly getting eggshell into the batter, which immediately earned him a reapproval from the warlock.

"Oh shut up, I have other problems to worry about..." Alec muttered, turning the mixer on. The dough hook attachment would do its own thing, according to Magnus, so he looked back to him in waiting.

"Why are you looking at me?"

Alec only sniffed, slipping his hands into his pockets. He would not be the one to give in on this. He wouldn't.

Hell. Yes, he would.

"Magnus... are you seriously going to stand there like nothing happened..."

"I could. Do you want me to? Or not?"

Before Alec could respond, a loud metallic snap brought his attention back to the mixer, and that was a mistake in itself. He and Magnus were both showered with a half-liquidy, half-solid mass of what would have been the batter for the Alsa-whatever-they-were-making. Magnus scrambled to hit the power button, and both of them were in silent shock afterwards.

"... Well then."

"... I told you I couldn't cook. It's the Lightwood curse."

"Maryse cooks rather well."

"Maryse is the exception to the rule..." Alec muttered in return, trying to wipe away some of the batter off his face. See? He had told Magnus that he shouldn't drag him out of his comfort zones. That was just a bad idea waiting to happen, and happen it had.

Magnus snorted just then, shaking his head in mock humour. "That could have gone better. It really, _really_ could have gone better."

"It could have," Alec replied thoughtfully, rubbing his sleeve across his face.

"You missed a spot!"

"You haven't even tried to clean yourself up, so you're one to talk," he replied with a small grin, reaching out to wipe some of the batter off of the warlock's face. He licked his finger afterwards, tilting his head. "It might have used more sugar."

"Hm..." Magnus stepped forward, planting his lips on Alec's collarbone. The Shadowhunter held very still, asides from combing his fingers through Magnus's now-batter coated hair. "I think it tastes quite sweet enough as it is."

Magnus's lips found themselves to places that Alec was sure he didn't have batter: down his neck, his heartbeat visibly pounding in his veins, along his collarbone, tracing his jawline before finally reaching his lips.

Maybe they didn't have an hour to kill with letting dough sit. But, Alec reckoned as he wrapped his arms around his warlock lover, they had all the time in the world and maybe, maybe, a hot shower in between.


End file.
